The Mountain Ch. 09

The information should have been startling. It was, but mostly because it so easily made sense of things that had been just beyond her grasp. Warder had hesitated to kill Hadren not out of mercy but out of a desire to spare Ysabel. Moreover, Warder had reacted to her near-drowning with violence not because he cared for her, but because he feared for himself. He regretted their bond, and even if it made her angry despite herself, that regret should mean that he would eventually leave her alone, fade away so that her awareness of him faded as well.

But if his life were tied to hers, she would never be free of him.

"He must be upset that he tied himself to someone like me."

"I'd think so," said Persephone.

#

Warder knew there were those inside the mountain who felt his subservience to Hadren had been shameful. The strongest Alpha should rule, and even with Ysabel, Hadren's power had never truly eclipsed Warder's potential.

Warder had not known when the charade would end so he had never truly let down his guard. Hadren and Ysabel controlled all the tech inside the mountain. Because of that, Warder had always been prepared to lead his troops without it. He accepted the ever-threatening storm that was Hadren and Ysabel as the price of escaping the never-ending tempest that was his father.

Orin, like Hadren, was not a better strategist than his son. He was, however, willing to do things that Hadren could not imagine and that Warder's own morals would not allow.

Now, with Hadren and Ysabel both near death, his troops were moving through the island, preparing for the game ahead. The defenses on the island were going to fall. To keep his people and his mate safe, he could no longer hide.

Strategy, even when it came naturally, often required sacrifice. Every part of him had raged at the idea of letting his mate out of his sight. Lucy had a role to play, but it felt unnatural to have her so far away. She would be ready to mate again soon. It pleased him, but the timing was poor. The island that had been his haven was perched on the edge of a storm.

The inevitability of mating was one of the things he had fled to the island to escape. His father had urged him to take a human mate. Orin had taken one very soon after the breach, a choice that had aided him in coming to power. He was among those who sang the praises of the human omegas even as he treated his mate with none of the reverence that would have been afforded to a Sylphen omega in their homeland. Omegas were always meant to bend to an Alpha's will, but some said the human omegas were even easier to dominate, unaware of how to fully inhabit their power, or unwilling to do so.

He had still been in mourning for Lyric. In mourning for the son he was forced to ignore so that he would not draw the eye of those who would use him in their games of power. And his father had continually thrust potential mates into his path, powerful and pretty human girls unaware of what he was and what it meant. He had avoided them, rejecting them cruelly and finally if they tried too hard to move him. His father had matched his behavior with equal cruelty, threatening the few friends he had left.

Still, he had not been inclined to trust Hadren when the man had approached him. Hadren had always been a rival. Jealous of his father's power and not powerful enough himself to do anything about it. Warder had humored him with the meeting only because he assumed word would reach his father. It would be another petty blow. Then, Hadren told him of his plan to carve an exit route from the world Warder's father was building.

He had given up everything to finally feel that he was out from under his father's power. He had turned his back on power itself, letting Hadren rule their small society, even as the man grew increasingly unstable. He had denied his nature to punish his father. Until the slip of a girl who had become his mate had torn through his defenses and brought his true self roaring to the fore.

For all that he had fought, he had ended up tied to a human omega after all. And soon, he would fight to protect her. He would risk failing her as he had failed Lyric.

For a brief moment, he was glad that his mate was distant. His disquiet threatened to consume him, a poison that his mate might feel if they were close. This was the sharp edge of the mating bond, the danger he had visited upon Lucy. If the storm about to descend on the island didn't kill her, he might yet tear her apart from the storm that raged inside him. The need to protect his mate called him back to himself. The other side of the coin. The painful beauty of his need to possess and protect her.

A knock sounded at the door and Rader entered a moment after. "Sir."

Warder nodded and Rader gestured for a small contingent of soldiers to enter the room behind him, carrying supplies. They began setting up the small comms systems that could be powered only by the small amounts of light in each individual soldier. It was nothing like the power available to them when Ysabel was functioning, but it would have to be enough.

Warder's unflappable beta took in his surroundings. He carried tactical maps of the island. "I'll just clear a space for these, shall I?" He swept a collection of glass bottles off of a wooden table, wrinkling his nose at the combined scents of their perfumes.

"I am as frustrated by the state of our war room as you are," said Warder cooly.

"Oh, no," said Rader, a wry smile on his face. "It's charming." And then, before Warder could growl at him, he added, "Our people are pleased you are here. They have wanted you here for a long time."

Warder had moved once again, taking over Grace and Hadren's quarters at the top of the mountain. It was a declaration of the way things were going to change. These were the finest quarters inside the mountain and so they belonged to the ruling Alpha. Any who wished could challenge him, but he knew that none would dare. The Sylphen who hid on the island all had different reasons to escape, but Warder was the only one who had been marked to lead if he had stayed. Now, he would take up that role to protect his people and his mate.

"If we were staying on this island, I would redecorate these rooms as a matter of urgency," he allowed, unfurling one of the maps.

"It's truly over, then?" asked Rader. "Everyone is making guesses, trying to decide if there is any way the barrier could stand. If you and your mate--"

"Lucy is not strong enough yet. I will not risk her. Our only choice now is to decide how the outsiders will find us when they come."

Thoughtful, Rader turned to the collection of perfumes and soaps he had just discarded, shuffled through them, and retrieved a cut-glass bottle. He sniffed it and handed it to Warder. "Bubble bath," he said. "I'm almost certain. You can meet them freshly bathed and smelling of flowers."

"Let them believe we have become so soft at their own peril."

"You have a plan no matter who comes."

It was not a question. Rader was loyal. "My plans account for the reality that beyond the mists, my father is a King among our people. That he will not hesitate to seek me here if he realizes something has been hidden."

#

The atmosphere in the church was tense. Even though the pews were packed with people, no one spoke above a whisper. Lucy noted that there were some people missing--mostly women. As if staying home would keep the warriors at bay. The warriors had not told the islanders when they would arrive, but the church had been mostly full at dawn. After years without electricity, the islanders were used to making the most of daylight.

No one wanted to admit that they had not slept.

Lucy found a seat in the back row on the ground floor. She wanted to hide in the balcony or the choir loft, but her leg was still tender from where it had brushed against the strange barrier in the water. And besides, she would be easily cornered if her only escape was via a flight of stairs. Less practical, her pride demanded that she avoid looking like she was trying to hide. Eventually, the church was so full that she gave her seat to someone else and moved to stand in the back corner.

Francine Monroe, the choirmaster and the groundskeeper for the church, bustled through the crowd, looking for all the world as if she were preparing for a concert or a special church service instead of the arrival of the warriors keeping her island home captive. She announced to anyone who would listen that she had arranged snacks for whenever it seemed appropriate to take a break.

Lucy was grateful for Francine's ability to pretend that everything was normal.

That morning, she had given her parents giant hugs goodbye in the churchyard, but she had insisted they sit apart from her. She could just make out the tops of their heads on the far side of the church, her father's silver head bent close to her mother's. She could not risk them drawing the warrior's attention. Warder would protect her to save himself. She understood that now. But she had no reason to expect he would extend the same protection to her family.

There was a sound outdoors and the islanders turned almost as one. Everyone expected the warriors to enter through the doors at the back of the sanctuary. Instead, there was a booming knock on the small wooden door that led out into the garden from behind the pulpit. Francine bustled to the door, motioning for two men sitting nearby to help her. In a moment, they had flung the door open to reveal the warrior's delegation on the other side.

They were forced to duck to enter through the small door and Lucy wondered why they had chosen the entrance--perhaps to avoid moving through the crowd. Perhaps simply to throw the islanders off balance. Lucy did not recognize most of them--she remembered the man called Liall from the Great Hall and a few other faces looked vaguely familiar.

Her heart gave a funny leap when the delegation had all entered the room and Warder was still absent. Things were complicated inside the mountain. He might not come.

Francine began to close the door and then jumped back as it was flung open again. Cenia ducked into view, smiling at the crowd as if all of them were old friends. And then, behind her--Warder.

"Well," said Francine. "Is that everyone?"

Warder gave a curt nod and Francine shut the door. "Wonderful," she said, with the tone of someone presiding over a tea party. "Let's begin!"

#

The warriors were arranged at a folding table at the front of the room--it looked like dollhouse furniture set so close to them. In their midst sat the islanders leadership--the mayor, Dr. Linn, Gino, who rationed the food, and a few others. Lucy noted that the islanders were all men while Cenia was joined by two other female warriors. She studied all of them closely--except for Warder.

She was afraid to draw his gaze. But after a while, she realized that she didn't need to be. Warder didn't bother to search the crowd. Likely, he still had others assigned to watch her as Persephone had revealed. He chose to keep himself distant. After a while, she indulged herself in staring at him, trying to will away the confusing sense of longing she felt deep in her stomach. Her staring wasn't exactly noticeable--everyone in the hall was staring at Warder, with looks that ranged from rage to fear, and even frank desire on more than one face. Lucy took a deep breath trying to shake a new feeling. Jealousy. Possession.

"That is the end of our account," said the warrior who was speaking--he had introduced himself as Roan. His story had been brief, clinical, from Lucy and Sheera's breach of the fence through to the attack.

At the front of the room, Mayor Edwards nervously cleared his throat. "Well--I suppose it's--our turn, then."

It sounded like a question.

"Yes," said Warder, his commanding voice rumbling throughout the room. "Begin."

#

The next hour was tense. At first, the rebel version was a bit more--colorful--than the warriors' clinical accounting of the captured and the dead. But under Warder's steady gaze, the rebel spokesperson backpedaled, sweat on his brow, ending with, "of course, it was mostly as the warriors--as they said." And then gratefully taking his seat.

Warder spoke into the silence that followed. "Now, we will hear what you wish from the new treaty."

He had not declared himself the leader of their proceedings. He did not have to.

"You may speak freely," said Warder. "No one will come to harm during this meeting."

The words were an invitation, but the tone was one of command. Lucy assumed that he had meant to be reassuring so that negotiations could progress. He sat stiff in his chair, his face carefully blank. However, his powerful body seemed to spark with a barely concealed intensity. The people in the pews shifted uneasily, low murmurs rising and fading as they tried to make sense of the dangerous warrior presenting himself as a patient diplomat. Finally, Warder seemed to notice that no one was coming forward.

"Speak," he said. He didn't have to raise his voice for it to carry across the church. Mayor Edwards stared at him owl eyed. It was Mrs. Monroe who finally spoke. "Why don't you go first, dear?" She gestured to Drew Ohanian in the front row. He had been a vocal critic of the negotiations, favoring a renewed attack on the mountain. Now, he looked a bit green around the gills at the thought of facing Warder even in a supposedly civil conversation. Lucy thought it was probably the censure in Francine's eyes that finally spurred him to speak. His first words were halting, but he gained steam as Warder remained silent. His speech became more and more demanding the longer he spoke without Warder's interruption. Warder nodded when he was done and this time, a line formed behind the small lectern that had been set up for the proceedings.

At ten-thirty, Mrs. Monroe interrupted a droning speech by the Mayor on the needs of the town to declare that they were going to take a break.

"I was speaking, Francine," said Mayor Edwards.

"Yes," said Francine. "And you were doing it very well. Now," --she clapped her hands-- "lemonade and cookies in the front hall."

Lucy almost laughed at the idea of Warder or even Cenia enjoying tiny paper cups of lemonade and Mrs. Monroe's delicate almond wedding cookies. She loitered in the corner while she waited for the warriors to leave the room, looking straight ahead towards the front hall, as if she planned to make her way to the snacks as soon as there was a break in the crowd. Once Warder preceded her into the front hall, she quickly headed in the opposite direction out the front doors of the church, desperate for some air.

She gasped as strong hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her into the shadows of the large oak that bent towards the front doors of the church. She reared back, ready to fight, and Warder caught her hands in his own, circling them with a single fist.

"Calm yourself," he said. "You will scare the islanders and they are all near to panic without your assistance."

Lucy's breathing was fast as Warder let go of her and braced his hands on either side of her body, hiding her from the view of anyone walking by.

"Are you hurt?" he asked abruptly. He reached for her again and she swatted his hand away. He sounded concerned, but he had cast her aside. He only cared if she was injured because it might affect his own safety.

"I'm fine," said Lucy. "Please, don't touch me."

Warder growled, catching her hand as she tried ineffectually to push him away. His gaze slid down her body. "I saw you limping."

"I hurt my leg when I--when I was in the water. The doctor already looked at it and he says I probably won't lose it."

"What?" Warder bit out. He reached for her jeans and Lucy placed both of her hands on his before he could tear them away and inspect the damage for himself.

"Warder! It was a bad joke. I'm fine. He said I'll be fine. I didn't even need stitches."

Warder glared at her. "Have you had enough to eat?"

"Yes. The rations that were sent were very generous."

Warder nodded.

"Are--are things very bad inside the mountain? I mean, with Ysabel injured and everything."

"All is well," said Warder. "They have their work to do while we handle things here."

She wouldn't tell him what she had learned from Persephone. In his arrogance, he would not assume she knew anything he had not elected to tell her. She had been turning over the right question in case she captured his attention. "I've been thinking about it," she told him. "If Ysabel and Hadren are both out of commission, things are going to change. You can't live inside the mountain without any light or communications."

"No."

"So is that what this negotiation is really about?"

"The negotiations will help us determine how to coexist with each other."

"If the warriors leave the mountain and we intermingle with each other, it will not go well." The warriors would take over the island.

"Can we not find some common ground?"

"Perhaps," said Lucy. "But it will not change the past. And we are different. We live differently. You can't just make all of that go away. What are these negotiations meant to accomplish?"

"We can find ways to coexist." Warder took his hands off the wall and ran them down Lucy's body, resting them ever-so-gently on her hips. She jumped at his touch and he growled, holding her still. She was instantly wet, suddenly so aware of him that she felt completely exposed.

"Stop!" She hated him for doing this to her just to show that he could.

Warder laughed, a low, rumbling laugh and looked pointedly at where her nipples strained against her sweater, sniffed the air, as if he could smell her arousal. He leaned in. "Are you cold, Lucy?" His breath was warm against her ear.

She brushed his hands away with a growl of her own, and he let her. Then, in a single motion, he took his jacket off and settled it on her shoulders. She wanted to hurl it back at him, but she was still trying to catch her breath. "This is why the negotiations will fail," said Lucy. "They aren't going to trust you when they realize you're just waiting for an opportunity to dictate how things are going to be. Were you even listening to what they were saying this morning or were you just waiting for opportunities to stare menacingly at everyone in turn?"

"I was thinking about the next time I will feel you around my cock," said Warder.

"They're going to be able to tell."

"That I am thinking about bedding you?"

"No!" Lucy said, hating how she blushed, wishing she could tell him not to pretend. "That you aren't really listening. You wouldn't be bothering with these negotiations if you didn't want something. If you don't really give them anything, even your respect, you'll fail."

There was a long moment of silence. Warder looked as if he might be considering what she said, but more likely he was ignoring her the same way he had the people in the church. "Don't try to avoid me again," he said. Without a backward glance, he walked back into the church.

#

Warder sat back and listened with an eerie calm. Cenia was equally stone-faced in the front row although once, when she turned and caught Lucy looking, she broke ranks and gave her a genuine smile and a little wave.

Lucy wasn't able to summon her own smile in answer before Cenia looked away. She was preoccupied by Warder. He hadn't looked at her since their confrontation outside and she was taking advantage of the opportunity to study him. She had taken off his jacket as soon as she managed to stop trembling outside the church, but she was sitting on it now, trying to ignore the fact that it smelled like him.

Her mate.

What game was he playing? The man she had known inside the mountain had dominated everything. Told her where she could go, what she could eat, when she could bathe or dress or sleep. He had confessed his abandonment of Elias, his own son, as if it were commonplace.